


Occam's Razor

by imaginary_golux



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Facial Shaving, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Trust Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 16:49:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7446580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginary_golux/pseuds/imaginary_golux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Poe gets back from a long mission with rather more beard than he'd like. Finn offers to help out.</p>
<p>Beta by my Best Beloved, Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw; written for a kinkmeme prompt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Occam's Razor

Poe gets home after a three-week mission with the strong desire for three things: a hot shower, a lot of sleep in an actual bed, and a shave.

The only problem with that last is that he’s so damned tired that he’s pretty sure holding a sharp object - even a safety razor, should he be able to find such a thing - anywhere near his throat would be a really bad idea. And he does _not_ want to go to bed with this horrid scratchy beard on his face.

Still, needs must, and he’s gotten his shower - hot water, glory be - and is standing blearily in front of the mirror scowling at his bearded reflection when Finn pokes his head around the door.

“Hey, you’ve been in there a while - you okay?”

Poe waves a hand airily, or at least tries to. It might look like flapping his hand vaguely. “‘M fine, buddy. Just _really_ hate this beard.”

Finn looks down at the straight razor which Poe usually uses, and says carefully, “You are _way_ too tired to shave. You’re _swaying_. Please don’t.”

“I won’t,” says Poe, sighing. “Damn. But this kriffing beard...”

“Look,” says Finn, “if it’s that important to you, _I’ll_ shave you. But I don’t want you slitting your own throat by accident, okay?”

Poe fumbles for the straight razor and holds it out in Finn’s general direction. “ _Please_?”

“...Sure,” Finn says, and takes the razor. “But maybe you’d better lay down?”

Poe’s shown Finn how to use the straight razor before, though Finn vastly prefers the little buzzing one that’s more like what the First Order used - having a knife so close to his skin makes him uncomfortable. But he’s watched Poe shave half a hundred times by now, with the old straight razor that was his grandfather’s and is now one of his most precious possessions, and he gets the shaving cream and the strop and the brush together while Poe collapses ungracefully onto his bunk. Poe is honestly very nearly asleep by the time Finn sits down beside his head barely two minutes later, but he manages to wriggle helpfully around so his head is on Finn’s thigh, neck bared, and hums a little in surprise at the comfort of the position.

“Just hold still,” Finn says softly, and Poe closes his eyes and relaxes, holds still while Finn brushes shaving cream over the damned beard - startling and cold for a second, and Poe carefully doesn’t flinch - and then very carefully braces Poe’s head with one hand and slides the razor over Poe’s cheek with care.

Poe hums a little, feels himself go boneless. He probably _shouldn’t_ be this relaxed, not with someone literally holding a knife to his throat, but he trusts Finn with everything he is, and every movement Finn makes proves again how careful and gentle he is with Poe. The razor barely whispers against his skin. Finn’s free hand is like an anchor holding Poe to the world; Poe is surrounded by the scent of leather and maleness and _Finn_ , Finn’s leg warm beneath his head, and Poe never wants to move again.

Poe turns his head when Finn’s fingers direct him to, holds still again as the razor whispers and whispers and whispers against his skin. A small and stupid part of Poe wants to press up against Finn’s hands, feel the razor press just a little more firmly, threat and promise and safety all in one, but the rest of Poe is both not nearly so stupid and also too damned tired to move. So he lies still until the razor is lifted away, startles just slightly as Finn wipes stray hairs and shaving cream away with a cool washcloth, and mumbles something - he’s not even sure what - as Finn rolls him carefully off of Finn’s leg and onto the pillow, tucks a blanket up around his shoulders and - Poe might actually be asleep for this bit, but he doesn’t _think_ so - brushes a kiss very gently against Poe’s newly hairless cheek.

*

In the morning, Poe stands in front of the mirror, brushing his fingers over the smooth skin of his jaw, the unblemished line of his throat, and thinks about the care in Finn’s hands, about that half-felt kiss. About the way that lying in Finn’s lap with a razor at his throat was the most comfortable Poe thinks he’s ever been. About taking stupid risks, and knowing which ones aren’t really risks at all.

And then he steps out of the bathroom and offers Finn the straight razor in a hand which does not shake, and says, “D’you want to try that again when I’m awake enough to appreciate it properly?”

Finn reaches out and then pauses just before his fingers touch the razor, looks up to meet Poe’s eyes. “It’ll cost you,” he says, tone light, but there’s something Poe can’t name in his expression.

“What’s the price?”

Finn’s eyes darken, just a little. “A kiss,” he says softly, and Poe leans down and pays it with a glad and eager heart, and puts his life again into his lover’s hands.

**Author's Note:**

> I've got a tumblr over at imaginarygolux.tumblr.com; come by and say hi!


End file.
